


Beautiful Shield

by everydayescapeartist



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Complete, F/M, everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydayescapeartist/pseuds/everydayescapeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wishes he could have known her, this girl from long ago.</p>
<p>Visual Prompt:  1913:  The Last Days of Pompeii</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Shield

“Peeta, come on, man, call it a day!”

“Finn, I will. I just…”

“You just have a hard on for an ancient girl entombed in ash. Healthy, man.”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s amazing and touching and all that jazz. You certainly do go for girls on fire, or, uh, who were on fire.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that? And it wasn’t fire, it was ash and noxious gasses.”

“And that was one of my finer jokes.”

“A sad commentary on your view of yourself as a comedian.”

“Well, then we’re _both_ sad sacks, huh?”

Peeta ignored the summation. ”It _is_ amazing, Finnick, and extremely touching. Have a little respect.”

“I do, Peet. I do. I just think…well, you’re in the land of the living. So, I just don’t want you to get so caught up in your work that you forget that.”

Peeta looked away from the glass case in front of him, holding his cell phone to his ear and considering his friend’s words. He had been pretty ensconced in the latest Pompeii discoveries and cast restorations, especially the one that lay before him now, the same one he’d stood next to and studied closely for the past twelve evenings since its re-casting had been completed. Newer techniques meant that more detail could be discovered and highlighted within the casts, which meant new knowledge. As a professor and historian, it was his job to understand better that which he taught, to record as accurately as possible that which history showed him, and that included what he saw of humanity in so many forms, like the one before him now.

“I won’t forget it. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. You get here before we get to our third round of drinks or I’m choosing you a live girl to take home with you, one who won’t accept no for an answer. Hell, I may do that anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Finn. See you soon.”

“Soon, Peet. Bye.”

Peeta hung up the phone and bit his lip thoughtfully. He knew Finnick had the best of intentions even if he was a bit impetuous. He really should go out and enjoy the game and drinks with the guys. It had been a while. He just wanted to look at her for five more minutes. Five more minutes, he promised himself, and then he’d leave. He’d be back again tomorrow anyway.

They’d found her near what they’d surmised was the baker’s house, where he and his wife sold bread and rolls from their oven. There was even a wall fresco there that had been uncovered, a double portrait of the baker Terentius Neo and his wife. The wife’s name was unknown and it was originally thought that this female might have been her.

The latest information for this cast though was that this female’s features didn’t seem to match the wife’s features as seen on the fresco. They were more delicate and more petite, less plain and more distinctive. She’d been pretty, this female, prettier than the baker’s wife. Furthermore, this girl was now dated as younger than initially thought, maybe a teenager.

The other point of interest for this piece had been what this girl was protecting. She was hunched, her back forever to the sky now, curling her body as best she could around what they had now finally distinguished as another girl, probably four or five years younger than she was, who herself was hunched over a cat. The older girl was clutching a loaf of bread in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the other beings.

It was the saddest, most beautiful thing Peeta had ever seen and he had appreciated the numerous casts he’d studied. No names were found for these girls. The baker and his wife had sons, one of which was found not far from the oven, a teenager himself. His proximity and positioning suggested that he might even have been trying to reach the girls. The general consensus was that they were sisters, the older trying to shield the younger from the oncoming ash.

This was, Peeta thought, part of what made this cast affect him. He thought about his family life and his upbringing. He did love his brothers but he didn’t think either of them, being older, would have done the same for him. They’d never tried to save him from his mother’s wrath, so he couldn’t imagine them trying to do so from a raging volcano’s…though at times that might have been a good description for how his mother would get. And, as with the people of Pompeii, Peeta had often been caught off guard and taken down before he’d known what had hit him. No, there hadn’t been a lot of love in his household; there’d been far more fear, anger, and resentment.

But this girl, the older one, you could read fear on her face but also love and sadness. Her actions and the thoroughness with which she covered the younger girl suggested a fierce protectiveness. He didn’t know why a centuries old forever preserved corpse stirred so much feeling within him and drew him to her so strongly but she did. He wondered what she was like, wondered what it would have been like to have known her, possibly like the baker’s son may have. He suspected it might have been something special, something very special indeed.

Peeta shook his head to clear it. Finnick was right. He was too close to his work, possibly losing his mind. A breather would definitely be good. He turned away from the glass case and exited the room, gathering his things from his office and saying goodnight to the museum security guard as he left. He breathed in the fresh night air, thankful for it, thankful for the relatively happy and peaceful life he now led away from all of his family’s drama. He walked down the street in the direction of the nearby bar and a small smile formed on his face. He wondered if his favorite bartender would be there tonight, the one who always wore her hair in a long, dark braid. For some reason, he thought she might like to hear about the girl in the museum.


End file.
